


i built my world around you

by impertinency



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Half-Sibling Incest, Home Improvement, Interior Decorating, M/M, Miscommunication, Painting, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinency/pseuds/impertinency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb buys a house in the suburbs two months after his twenty-sixth birthday. It's an old, rundown house that he's determined to fix up because, as he explains to Jon, <i>that's the type of thing people do when they get older.</i></p>
<p>Jon thinks the entire idea is ridiculous, but he goes along with it all the same, if only to make sure Robb doesn't accidentally burn the entire place to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i built my world around you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous ask box prompt on tumblr: _Perhaps a modern AU of Jon/Robb, with them having a paint fight? Perhaps also some making out in it? :)_
> 
> This is pretty self-indulgent fluff and strays wildly from the prompt, so apologies to the anon who requested it! Also, please excuse the smidgen of angst in there. It's hard not to get angsty when writing about Jon Snow.

 

Robb buys a house in the suburbs two months after his twenty-sixth birthday. It's an old, rundown house that he's determined to fix up because, as he explains to Jon, _that's the type of thing people do when they get older._

Jon thinks the entire idea is ridiculous. Robb is useless at doing his own laundry or cooking his own meals, so there's no way he's actually capable of renovating a house. The one time he attempted to fix a leaky sink in his apartment, he accidentally ended up causing a minor flood in the bathroom.

Jon wonders if this is Robb’s attempt at settling into adulthood – something they’ve both been putting off for too long - but then decides that it’s far more likely that Robb’s having a quarter-life crisis instead.

 

*

 

“So, let me get this straight. You’re filthy rich and you decided it was a good idea to buy a rundown house in the suburbs instead of a mansion in the city?” Theon scowls and leans his elbows on one of the rackety, stained tables in their favorite pub. “This _must_ have been your idea, Snow.”

“No,” Jon snaps, placing his glass back on the table with such force that some of the beer sloshes over the rim and onto the table. “Robb had the brilliant idea all by himself.”

“Why the hell would you want to renovate it yourself?” Theon asks, glancing at Robb in bewilderment. “You have money. Hire someone to do it. That’s what everyone else does.”

“I want to do it myself,” Robb says. “That was the entire point of buying the house.”

“Fine, whatever, but why the suburbs? I thought you liked living in the city.”

“I do,” Robb insists, his gaze sliding over to Jon for a split second. “I just want a little more privacy.”

Theon snorts and leans back in his chair. “Nothing exciting happens in the suburbs, Stark,” he says. “Only old people and families live out there.”

“That’s not true,” Robb says, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe not,” he says with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder, “but it’s still in the middle of nowhere. Don’t expect anyone to visit you there.”

“What? Why not?” Robb says. “It’s only an hour outside the city. It’s not even that far away.”

_It is_ , Jon thinks, and something sour settles in his stomach at the realization that Robb is moving so far away from him.

 

*

 

Jon doesn’t really understand why Robb even _wants_ to buy a house, and when he asks Robb about it, his brother becomes uncharacteristically cagey and secretive.

“You don’t know the first thing about repairing a house,” Jon tells him one afternoon. He’s perched on Robb’s couch, watching with faint amusement as Robb paces the length of his apartment. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with something Greyjoy said, but maybe you should hire someone to do it for you.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Robb says. “Besides, how hard can it be?”

Jon raises an eyebrow and reaches over to grab Robb’s laptop. He does a quick search for a list of reputable construction companies and bookmarks a few for the inevitable day when Robb gives in and admits defeat. Jon loves his brother more than anyone else in the world, but sometimes Robb is too stubborn for his own good.

“You’re going to accidentally burn the place to the ground,” he teases, pulling on Robb’s arm until he stops pacing and slumps onto the couch beside him.

“Thanks for the show of faith,” Robb says.

“Anytime.”

Robb chooses to reply by pushing Jon back against the couch cushions so he can hover over him. “If you’re so worried about it,” he says, grinning, “then it’s a good thing you’ll be there to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“ _No_ ,” Jon says, narrowing his eyes. “This is _your_ project. I never agreed to help you.”

Robb brushes a kiss across Jon’s lips, then another across his jaw. “Bet I could convince you.”

He does. Twice.

 

*

 

It’s a testament to his love for Robb, Jon thinks, that he lets his brother wake him up early one Sunday morning and drag him away from the city and into the suburbs.

The house is very large and very old, and if it wasn’t for the dilapidated foundation, rotting floorboards, and archaic plumbing, it’d be pretty impressive. It’s situated on miles of land that’s dotted with various trees and bushes, and the closest neighboring house is only a speck in the distance. There’s a sad, drooping tree in the front yard that Jon leans against as Robb attempts to open the old, rusted front door. It releases a loud grunt and teeters on its hinges when Robb finally pushes it open.

“Just how long has this place been abandoned?” Jon asks suspiciously, nudging the tip of his shoe against the bottom of the staircase.

“A decade, maybe?” Robb says, voice distracted as he peers into something resembling a closet. “The realtor said no one would buy it for years. I got it for next to nothing.”

Jon frowns uneasily as the floorboards creak underneath their feet. “This place is a disaster. What on earth possessed you to buy it? There must have been something else for sale.”

“I thought it had potential.”

“Potential,” Jon repeats flatly. “Right.”

_This place is going to be a nightmare to renovate_ , he thinks. 

“Stop brooding,” Robb says cheerfully, throwing an arm over Jon’s shoulder. “This’ll be fun.”

Jon looks at him in disbelief. “I doubt it.”

 

*

 

It’s not fun. It’s anything but fun.

Robb has always been impulsive and persistent and prone to tunnel vision, so Jon’s not entirely surprised by the way Robb pesters him non-stop for almost a month about renovation plans. Jon suddenly finds his email full of messages about interior decorating and his apartment full of furniture catalogues and articles on how to repair broken light fixtures or fix creaky door hinges. To his horror, he even catches himself browsing the internet for DIY home repair projects one evening. He immediately exits the website and clears his browser history with only a small amount of guilt. He doesn’t want Robb to get it into his head that Jon’s actually interested in helping him out.

It’s not that he minds helping Robb, but they’ve yet to talk about what this move will mean for their relationship. They’ve always been careful about having separate apartments for fear of anyone finding out about them, and now Jon is starting to wonder if buying this house is Robb’s subtle way of telling Jon that their relationship has an expiration date. 

Robb always avoids the topic when Jon brings it up and that, more than anything else, is what makes Jon worry.

 

*

 

The first time they work on the house, Jon counts a dozen bruises scattered across his body, courtesy of his spectacularly awful attempt at trying to pry up the old floorboards in one of the second floor bedrooms. He takes a small amount of pleasure in the fact that Robb’s in worse shape by the end of the day and is sporting a very large, very painful looking bruise across his entire right side.

“Regretting your decision to buy that piece of crap house?” Jon asks once they’re finally in the car and heading back to the city.

“No,” Robb says, scowling at him.

Jon leans over at pokes Robb in the side, smirking when Robb lets out a panicked, pained yelp.

_Stupid, stubborn, impulsive idiot_ , he thinks fondly. _Maybe this will convince him to let someone else deal with it._

 

*

 

It takes three more trips and three more sets of bruises and scrapes for Robb to admit that perhaps renovating a house was a _little_ outside his area of expertise.

“I didn’t really think this through,” Robb says over the phone, his tone somewhat sheepish. “I think I’ll just hire a contractor to finish it.”

Jon emails Robb the list of companies he bookmarked all those months ago, laughing when Robb hangs up on him as soon as he receives the email.

 

*

 

Robb invites the rest of the family out to look at the house when the contractors are halfway finished with their repairs. He says it’s because he wants his parents’ opinions, but Jon has a sneaking suspicion that Robb’s looking for their approval as well.

“It’s just so _ugly_ ,” Sansa says, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she stares at the house. “Couldn’t you have picked a prettier house?”

“It’s not going to look like that when it finished, idiot,” Arya says, standing on her toes to peer out of one of the windows. She huffs in irritation when Rickon and Bran push her aside and block her view. “I don’t understand why you want to move all the way out here anyway. It’s so boring.”

“I think it’s peaceful,” Sansa says loyally. “I’m sure that it’ll be a very nice place for Robb to raise a family once he gets married.”

Robb’s cheeks grow red in embarrassment. “Sansa, that’s not why I bought a house,” he says, voice choked.

Sansa raises an eyebrow, looking as if she doesn’t believe him. “I know you had a bad breakup with Roslin awhile back,” she says, patting him on the arm, “but you’ll find someone else soon enough. And then when you get married, you’ll already have a house to live in.”

“What? _No_ ,” he says, affronted. “That’s not why I bought it!”

Jon coughs, trying to hide a laugh at Robb’s dismayed expression, and he reaches out to brush his fingers against Robb’s wrist in a half-hearted attempt at comfort.

Later, after everyone’s left, Jon finds Robb sulking in the half-finished dining room.

“You’re not still embarrassed by Sansa’s comment, are you?” he asks. He doesn’t mention the curl of anxiety he had felt when Sansa had mentioned Robb moving on. It’s something that’s been on his mind all too often lately, and her words hurt more than he thought they would.

Robb shrugs. “Not really. I just…”

He sighs, looking up at Jon from beneath his lashes, and his gaze is conflicted and worried. 

Jon’s heart starts pounding because he knows that this is the moment when Robb breaks everything off – when he says that he’s tired of being in a relationship he has to hide from everyone. Jon has always known that their days were limited, that it was only a matter of time before Robb found someone he could truly build a life and home with. 

There’s a torturous silence that stretches between them, and Jon shifts uncomfortably, wiping his palms on his jeans. “It’s late,” he finally says, his voice tight. “We should start heading back home.”

It’s a pathetic opening, a chance to avoid having a conversation and then suffering through an awkward drive back to the city. But Robb takes it, releasing a nervous, shuddering sigh as he makes his way to the door.

 

*

 

_Home_ , Jon thinks, bitter and embarrassed, _is anywhere Robb is._

He’s never truly felt like he had a home. Even though he had a good childhood and his father and stepmother and half-siblings made him feel like he was part of the family, there were times when Jon felt like an outsider all the same. There’s always been a persistent itch under his skin, a desire to find a place to settle and call his own.

He thought he had that with Robb. Even if they were living in separate apartments and pretending they weren’t anything more than brothers, Jon at least knew that Robb was _his_. Which is why it hurts to see Robb so happy about this stupid house, why it hurts knowing that he can’t do anything but resign himself to the fact that Robb’s moving on without him.

Jon can’t blame him, not really – especially once he sees the finished house.

The company Robb ended up hiring has renovated the house in a way that makes it look entirely new. Jon is surprised by how pristine it looks, with its shining hardwood floors and mold free walls and large, clear glass windows. Robb can’t contain his excitement and he practically bounces with glee as he pulls Jon through every room.

“Come on, you have to admit it looks amazing,” he says, his grin bright and wide and happy.

“Yeah,” Jon says softly. “You’ll be happy here.”

Robb gives him a long look, his expression unreadable. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, keeping his tone light. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now, Stark.”

“Never,” Robb says. He settles on the top step of the staircase leading to the second floor, resting his arms on his legs as he looks around the empty space. He looks so pleased with himself that Jon smiles.

“You’re still gonna help me with painting and furniture and all that, right?” he asks, moving over when Jon nudges his side.

“I’m not going curtain shopping with you,” Jon warns. He sits down beside him on the stairs and presses their legs together. “That’s too much, even for me.”

Robb waves his hand, unconcerned. “I already promised Sansa that she could buy all that crap. I don’t want to do it.”

“Let her do the furniture shopping,” Jon says.

“I want your opinion.” Robb runs his foot up Jon’s calf and smiles at him. “Do I need to convince you again?”

Jon’s lips twitch. “Probably.”

 

*

 

Except, as it turns out, Sansa refuses to buy anything until she knows exactly what color the walls of each room will be.

“How do you expect me to pick anything out when you don’t even know what colors you’re painting the walls?” she asks, and her tone has the intended effect of making both Robb and Jon feel guilty enough that they go out to buy paint the next morning.

Robb settles on a bluish-grey color for the bedrooms, deciding to choose the color of the other rooms at a later date.

Naturally, Jon is the only one enlisted to help him paint, and he finds himself carted back out to the suburbs early one Saturday morning, yawning as he spreads old newspapers across the floor. Despite his misgivings about the house, Jon actually doesn’t mind painting – it’s slow, methodical work and it’s easy to get into a rhythm after awhile. Robb, on the other hand, grows restless after a couple of hours and starts splashing paint against the wall and running a paint roller through it without any finesse.

“If that’s how you’re going to go about it, you should have asked Rickon or Arya to help you out instead,” Jon mutters, crouching down to swipe his paintbrush along the base of the wall. He straightens when he feels a splash of something wet on the back of his neck, and he glances over his shoulder to find Robb grinning at him, his fingers slick with paint.

“Real mature,” Jon says, but he can’t help the smile that crosses his lips as he flicks his own paintbrush in Robb’s direction. A good amount of paint splatters onto Robb’s cheeks and t-shirt.

Robb laughs and drops his roller into the paint tray, ignoring the flecks of paint that fall onto the newspaper and his bare feet. The newspaper crinkles under his feet as he pads over to Jon and wraps his arms around Jon’s waist.

“It wouldn’t be as fun without you here,” he says, resting his chin on Jon’s shoulder. He leans his head against Jon’s, nuzzling into the curve of Jon’s neck and ghosting his lips against the soft skin behind Jon’s ear.

“I wouldn’t call this fun,” Jon says dryly, tossing his own paintbrush onto the floor. 

“Always so sullen,” Robb says, his tone teasing. He slips his hands underneath the hem of Jon’s t-shirt, his fingers lazily trailing along Jon’s stomach.

Robb’s hands are cold against his skin and it makes Jon jerk in surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Do you still have paint on your hands?”

“Mmmm, maybe,” Robb says. 

Sure enough, when he looks down, there are two large, blue-grey splotches of paint on his t-shirt and a couple lines of paint dribbling onto his jeans. Robb drags his fingers further up Jon’s chest, and Jon knows that if he were to strip off his shirt, he’d find streaks of paint along his skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jon says as he twists around, bringing one of his own paint-stained hands up to cup Robb’s face. He wraps his other arm around Robb’s waist, settling his hand on the small of his back as he pulls Robb in for a kiss.

Robb returns the kiss eagerly, curling a hand around the back of Jon’s neck as he deepens the kiss and licks his way into Jon’s mouth. Jon groans when Robb flips them around and pins him up against the wall, and he tangles his fingers in Robb’s hair, yanking on his curls in encouragement as Robb slides a knee between Jon’s leg.

Jon can feel the paint start to seep through the back of his clothing and he shivers, leaning away from the wall and into Robb. “The paint’s still wet,” Jon murmurs.

“We can repaint it later,” Robb says. There’s a thick line of paint across his cheekbone and a few streaks in his hair. 

“ _You_ can repaint it later,” Jon says. He runs his hand over Robb’s jaw, his fingers leaving behind another smear of paint. 

“Worth it,” Robb says, carding a hand through Jon’s curls as he leans in to give him hot, lingering kiss.

He tugs Jon’s shirt over his head, pausing only to let out a bark of laughter when he sees the messy lines of half dry paint on Jon’s chest. “Looks like I painted _you_ ,” he says, tracing one of the marks. His gaze darts up and he reaches out to finger a lock of Jon’s hair with a smile. “There’s even some in your precious hair.”

“You can help me wash it out later,” Jon says. 

He narrows his eyes when Robb reaches up to run his fingers through Jon’s hair again with a coy smile, then growls as he claims Robb’s mouth in another kiss, fierce and possessive and rough. Robb presses closer against him, trapping him against the wall that’s still damp with paint as he shoves Jon’s jeans down his hips with clumsy fingers.

Robb drops to his knees, tugging Jon’s jeans and boxers off his hips. He tosses them off to the side where the jeans land partially in one of their discarded paint trays. Jon should care about the mess they’re making, but he’s too distracted by the way Robb kisses the jut of his hipbone, the way he licks a long stretch of skin on his thigh.

Jon groans at the heat of Robb’s mouth when he finally wraps his lips around Jon’s cock. He keeps his fingers splayed on Jon’s thighs as he bobs his head, his fingers leaving identical smears of paint on Jon’s skin. Jon reaches for Robb, his hand skirting over the back of his neck and the top of his shoulders before finally coming to rest in his hair.

Jon whimpers when Robb licks along the underside of his cock, when he moves away and then comes back, taking even more of him into his mouth. Jon’s hand tightens in Robb’s hair when he comes, and he barely keeps himself propped up against the wall as his body shudders in release.

He watches hazily as Robb swallows and sits back on his heels. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, his lips red and swollen and shiny as he smirks up at Jon. That’s pretty much all it takes for Jon to go to him, pushing him back onto the floor and kissing him with a ferocity that surprises even him.

The newspaper crumples and tears beneath them as their feet and hands scramble for purchase on the floor. One of Robb’s hands hits a discarded paint can, tipping it over and making a small river of paint flow across the newspaper and trickle over their arms. Jon feels one of his feet settling into a pool of paint, feels it rushing across his toes and coating his heel, but the feeling is nothing compared to the way Robb squirms underneath him. Robb has always been more vocal than Jon during sex, and now that there’s no one around to hear them his whines and moans are loud and desperate and frantic.

Robb’s moan is particularly wanton when Jon puts a hand on his cock, swirling the precome on the head with his thumb. Robb wraps an arm around Jon’s neck and pulls him close, trembling when Jon twists his wrist and applies more pressure. Robb bucks against his hand, murmuring encouragements for Jon to stroke him rougher and faster and harder.

“So impatient,” Jon says, nipping at the skin of his collarbone. 

“So slow,” Robb retorts, and then to Jon’s complete surprise, Robb wraps his legs around Jon’s waist and flips them. 

Robb grins down at him as he leans in to press a kiss against Jon’s lips. He ruts against Jon’s leg, his pace slow at first and then quickly turning into something more rapid. Robb runs his fingers along the sinew and muscle of Jon’s arms before circling Jon’s wrists in his hands, holding them tight together over his head. It causes a pleasant ache and stretch in Jon’s back and shoulders, and he arches into Robb’s grip, eyes fluttering shut.

Robb releases a low, keening sound when he hits his release, shivering as he spills onto Jon’s leg. He curls into Jon and kisses his shoulder, and Jon strokes a comforting hand over the skin of his lip and lower back as Robb comes down from his high. Robb shifts a second later, twisting around to tear a piece of newspaper from the ground and using it to dab at the mess on Jon’s leg.

“Too bad the showers don’t work yet,” he says wryly.

Jon laughs, but his heart feels strangely heavy as they continue to stay there, tangled together and staring up at the splotchy paint job on the walls. Robb is warm against him and his presence is so comforting and so familiar that Jon really doesn’t want anything to change.

But he can’t avoid change forever.

“Robb, about the house, I…” he pauses, clearing his throat nervously. “I know I can’t give you what you want, so I understand if you want this to stop.” 

Robb tenses beside him. “What are you talking about?”

Jon clenches his jaw in frustration. “Look, I know why you bought the house. I’m just saying it’s okay. I understand.”

“Wait, what? _I_ don’t understand.”

Jon glances up at Robb only to find him looking at him in confusion. Robb leans up on one arm, an array of emotions flashing across his face as he peers down at Jon.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asks, doubt creeping into his voice.

“ _No_ ,” Jon says, surprised. “I thought you were going to break up with _me_.”

Robb frowns. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you bought a house.” He doesn’t realize how stupid it sounds until the words are already out of his mouth. Jon feels the blush creep across his face and he turns his face away, ashamed.

Robb is silent for a long moment.

“You’re always so self-deprecating,” he eventually says. He brushes the back of his hand across Jon’s cheek so tenderly that it makes Jon’s pulse skip a beat. “Jon, I bought the house for you.”

Jon blinks up at him in surprise. That’s _not_ what he expected Robb to say.

“There are no neighbors to spy on us or rat us out to anyone. And no one here knows who we are,” Robb says. “I’m tired of having to hide all the time.”

Jon opens his mouth to respond, but finds that all his words are stuck in his throat. 

“I know you’ve never felt like you belonged anywhere. I wanted to give you somewhere that’s yours,” Robb says, and though his face is flushed in embarrassment, but there’s something eager and honest in his expression. “Somewhere that’s ours.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice hoarse. 

“I wanted to keep it a surprise. I almost did tell you a couple of times, but I, uh, didn’t know how.”

“ _When_ were you going to tell me?”

“I had hoped to do it once it was finally furnished. But I probably would have told you if you’d ever gotten annoyed enough to stop helping me,” he says, chagrined. “I realize it was stupid to keep expecting you to help out, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“ _Robb_.” 

Jon doesn’t realize his hands are clenched tightly at his side until Robb grabs one and twines their fingers together. He squeezes Jon’s hand, the look on his face so hopeful and adoring that it makes something in Jon’s chest ache.

“Move in with me,” Robb whispers. He brushes a kiss across Jon’s forehead, then another across the bridge of his nose, then a third against his lips. It’s soft and gentle, more an exchange of breath than a kiss, but somehow twice as intimate. “I don’t care who finds out or what they’ll say. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

And _oh_ , Jon feels like he’s just been torn apart because Robb – stupid, sappy, selfless Robb – has just given him everything he’s ever wanted. 

He knows that it won’t be easy, knows that it won’t take long for their family or friends to catch on. Neither of them wants to disappoint their family, but for the first time, Jon feels a flutter of hope unfurl in his chest.

“Yes,” he murmurs. Robb’s face changes from worry to delight to an all-consuming love and affection that takes Jon’s breath away. He kisses him then, slow and sweet and perfect, and thinks that maybe things will actually work out in their favor.


End file.
